Barnaby Rudge/Chapter 39

The applause which the performance of Hugh and his new friend
elicited from the company at The Boot, had not yet subsided, and
the two dancers were still panting from their exertions, which had
been of a rather extreme and violent character, when the party was
reinforced by the arrival of some more guests, who, being a
detachment of United Bulldogs, were received with very flattering
marks of distinction and respect.

The leader of this small party—for, including himself, they were
but three in number—was our old acquaintance, Mr Tappertit, who
seemed, physically speaking, to have grown smaller with years
(particularly as to his legs, which were stupendously little), but
who, in a moral point of view, in personal dignity and self-esteem,
had swelled into a giant. Nor was it by any means difficult for
the most unobservant person to detect this state of feeling in the
quondam ‘prentice, for it not only proclaimed itself impressively
and beyond mistake in his majestic walk and kindling eye, but found
a striking means of revelation in his turned-up nose, which scouted
all things of earth with deep disdain, and sought communion with
its kindred skies.

Mr Tappertit, as chief or captain of the Bulldogs, was attended by
his two lieutenants; one, the tall comrade of his younger life; the
other, a ‘Prentice Knight in days of yore—Mark Gilbert, bound in
the olden time to Thomas Curzon of the Golden Fleece. These
gentlemen, like himself, were now emancipated from their ‘prentice
thraldom, and served as journeymen; but they were, in humble
emulation of his great example, bold and daring spirits, and
aspired to a distinguished state in great political events. Hence
their connection with the Protestant Association of England,
sanctioned by the name of Lord George Gordon; and hence their
present visit to The Boot.

‘Gentlemen!’ said Mr Tappertit, taking off his hat as a great
general might in addressing his troops. ‘Well met. My lord does
me and you the honour to send his compliments per self.’

‘You’ve seen my lord too, have you?’ said Dennis. ‘I see him this
afternoon.’

‘My duty called me to the Lobby when our shop shut up; and I saw
him there, sir,’ Mr Tappertit replied, as he and his lieutenants
took their seats. ‘How do you do?’

‘Lively, master, lively,’ said the fellow. ‘Here’s a new brother,
regularly put down in black and white by Muster Gashford; a credit
to the cause; one of the stick-at-nothing sort; one arter my own
heart. D’ye see him? Has he got the looks of a man that’ll do, do
you think?’ he cried, as he slapped Hugh on the back.

‘Looks or no looks,’ said Hugh, with a drunken flourish of his arm,
‘I’m the man you want. I hate the Papists, every one of ’em. They
hate me and I hate them. They do me all the harm they can, and
I’ll do them all the harm I can. Hurrah!’

‘Was there ever,’ said Dennis, looking round the room, when the
echo of his boisterous voice bad died away; ‘was there ever such a
game boy! Why, I mean to say, brothers, that if Muster Gashford
had gone a hundred mile and got together fifty men of the common
run, they wouldn’t have been worth this one.’

The greater part of the company implicitly subscribed to this
opinion, and testified their faith in Hugh by nods and looks of
great significance. Mr Tappertit sat and contemplated him for a
long time in silence, as if he suspended his judgment; then drew a
little nearer to him, and eyed him over more carefully; then went
close up to him, and took him apart into a dark corner.

‘I say,’ he began, with a thoughtful brow, ‘haven’t I seen you
before?’

‘It’s like you may,’ said Hugh, in his careless way. ‘I don’t
know; shouldn’t wonder.’

‘No, but it’s very easily settled,’ returned Sim. ‘Look at me.
Did you ever see me before? You wouldn’t be likely to forget it,
you know, if you ever did. Look at me. Don’t be afraid; I won’t
do you any harm. Take a good look—steady now.’

The encouraging way in which Mr Tappertit made this request, and
coupled it with an assurance that he needn’t be frightened, amused
Hugh mightily—so much indeed, that be saw nothing at all of the
small man before him, through closing his eyes in a fit of hearty
laughter, which shook his great broad sides until they ached again.

‘And yet I’d have wagered a seven-shilling piece,” said Mr
Tappertit, folding his arms, and confronting him with his legs wide
apart and firmly planted on the ground, ‘that you once were hostler
at the Maypole.’

Hugh opened his eyes on hearing this, and looked at him in great
surprise.

‘—And so you were, too,’ said Mr Tappertit, pushing him away with
a condescending playfulness. ‘When did my eyes ever deceive—
unless it was a young woman! Don’t you know me now?’

Certainly Hugh did, and he remembered D. Varden too; but that he
didn’t tell him.

‘You remember coming down there, before I was out of my time, to
ask after a vagabond that had bolted off, and left his disconsolate
father a prey to the bitterest emotions, and all the rest of it—
don’t you?’ said Mr Tappertit.

‘Of course I do!’ cried Hugh. ‘And I saw you there.’

‘Saw me there!’ said Mr Tappertit. ‘Yes, I should think you did
see me there. The place would be troubled to go on without me.
Don’t you remember my thinking you liked the vagabond, and on that
account going to quarrel with you; and then finding you detested
him worse than poison, going to drink with you? Don’t you remember
that?’

‘To be sure!’ cried Hugh.

‘Well! and are you in the same mind now?’ said Mr Tappertit.

‘Yes!’ roared Hugh.

‘You speak like a man,’ said Mr Tappertit, ‘and I’ll shake hands
with you.’ With these conciliatory expressions he suited the
action to the word; and Hugh meeting his advances readily, they
performed the ceremony with a show of great heartiness.

‘I find,’ said Mr Tappertit, looking round on the assembled guests,
‘that brother What’s-his-name and I are old acquaintance.—You
never heard anything more of that rascal, I suppose, eh?’

‘It’s to be hoped, for the sake of mankind in general and the
happiness of society, that he is,’ said Mr Tappertit, rubbing his
palm upon his legs, and looking at it between whiles. ‘Is your
other hand at all cleaner? Much the same. Well, I’ll owe you
another shake. We’ll suppose it done, if you’ve no objection.’

Hugh laughed again, and with such thorough abandonment to his mad
humour, that his limbs seemed dislocated, and his whole frame in
danger of tumbling to pieces; but Mr Tappertit, so far from
receiving this extreme merriment with any irritation, was pleased
to regard it with the utmost favour, and even to join in it, so far
as one of his gravity and station could, with any regard to that
decency and decorum which men in high places are expected to
maintain.

Mr Tappertit did not stop here, as many public characters might
have done, but calling up his brace of lieutenants, introduced Hugh
to them with high commendation; declaring him to be a man who, at
such times as those in which they lived, could not be too much
cherished. Further, he did him the honour to remark, that he would
be an acquisition of which even the United Bulldogs might be proud;
and finding, upon sounding him, that he was quite ready and willing
to enter the society (for he was not at all particular, and would
have leagued himself that night with anything, or anybody, for any
purpose whatsoever), caused the necessary preliminaries to be gone
into upon the spot. This tribute to his great merit delighted no
man more than Mr Dennis, as he himself proclaimed with several rare
and surprising oaths; and indeed it gave unmingled satisfaction to
the whole assembly.

‘Make anything you like of me!’ cried Hugh, flourishing the can he
had emptied more than once. ‘Put me on any duty you please. I’m
your man. I’ll do it. Here’s my captain—here’s my leader. Ha ha
ha! Let him give me the word of command, and I’ll fight the whole
Parliament House single-handed, or set a lighted torch to the
King’s Throne itself!’ With that, he smote Mr Tappertit on the
back, with such violence that his little body seemed to shrink into
a mere nothing; and roared again until the very foundlings near at
hand were startled in their beds.

In fact, a sense of something whimsical in their companionship
seemed to have taken entire possession of his rude brain. The bare
fact of being patronised by a great man whom he could have crushed
with one hand, appeared in his eyes so eccentric and humorous, that
a kind of ferocious merriment gained the mastery over him, and
quite subdued his brutal nature. He roared and roared again;
toasted Mr Tappertit a hundred times; declared himself a Bulldog to
the core; and vowed to be faithful to him to the last drop of blood
in his veins.

All these compliments Mr Tappertit received as matters of course—
flattering enough in their way, but entirely attributable to his
vast superiority. His dignified self-possession only delighted
Hugh the more; and in a word, this giant and dwarf struck up a
friendship which bade fair to be of long continuance, as the one
held it to be his right to command, and the other considered it an
exquisite pleasantry to obey. Nor was Hugh by any means a passive
follower, who scrupled to act without precise and definite orders;
for when Mr Tappertit mounted on an empty cask which stood by way
of rostrum in the room, and volunteered a speech upon the alarming
crisis then at hand, he placed himself beside the orator, and
though he grinned from ear to ear at every word he said, threw out
such expressive hints to scoffers in the management of his cudgel,
that those who were at first the most disposed to interrupt, became
remarkably attentive, and were the loudest in their approbation.

It was not all noise and jest, however, at The Boot, nor were the
whole party listeners to the speech. There were some men at the
other end of the room (which was a long, low-roofed chamber) in
earnest conversation all the time; and when any of this group went
out, fresh people were sure to come in soon afterwards and sit down
in their places, as though the others had relieved them on some
watch or duty; which it was pretty clear they did, for these
changes took place by the clock, at intervals of half an hour.
These persons whispered very much among themselves, and kept aloof,
and often looked round, as jealous of their speech being overheard;
some two or three among them entered in books what seemed to be
reports from the others; when they were not thus employed) one of
them would turn to the newspapers which were strewn upon the table,
and from the St James’s Chronicle, the Herald, Chronicle, or
Public Advertiser, would read to the rest in a low voice some
passage having reference to the topic in which they were all so
deeply interested. But the great attraction was a pamphlet called
The Thunderer, which espoused their own opinions, and was supposed
at that time to emanate directly from the Association. This was
always in request; and whether read aloud, to an eager knot of
listeners, or by some solitary man, was certain to be followed by
stormy talking and excited looks.

In the midst of all his merriment, and admiration of his captain,
Hugh was made sensible by these and other tokens, of the presence
of an air of mystery, akin to that which had so much impressed him
out of doors. It was impossible to discard a sense that something
serious was going on, and that under the noisy revel of the public-
house, there lurked unseen and dangerous matter. Little affected
by this, however, he was perfectly satisfied with his quarters and
would have remained there till morning, but that his conductor rose
soon after midnight, to go home; Mr Tappertit following his
example, left him no excuse to stay. So they all three left the
house together: roaring a No-Popery song until the fields
resounded with the dismal noise.

Cheer up, captain!’ cried Hugh, when they had roared themselves out
of breath. ‘Another stave!’

Mr Tappertit, nothing loath, began again; and so the three went
staggering on, arm-in-arm, shouting like madmen, and defying the
watch with great valour. Indeed this did not require any unusual
bravery or boldness, as the watchmen of that time, being selected
for the office on account of excessive age and extraordinary
infirmity, had a custom of shutting themselves up tight in their
boxes on the first symptoms of disturbance, and remaining there
until they disappeared. In these proceedings, Mr Dennis, who had a
gruff voice and lungs of considerable power, distinguished himself
very much, and acquired great credit with his two companions.

‘Answer the captain instantly,’ cried Hugh, beating his hat down on
his head; ‘why don’t you ever tell what trade you’re of?’

‘I’m of as gen-teel a calling, brother, as any man in England—as
light a business as any gentleman could desire.’

‘Was you ‘prenticed to it?’ asked Mr Tappertit.

‘No. Natural genius,’ said Mr Dennis. ‘No ‘prenticing. It come
by natur’. Muster Gashford knows my calling. Look at that hand of
mine—many and many a job that hand has done, with a neatness and
dex-terity, never known afore. When I look at that hand,’ said Mr
Dennis, shaking it in the air, ‘and remember the helegant bits of
work it has turned off, I feel quite molloncholy to think it should
ever grow old and feeble. But sich is life!’

He heaved a deep sigh as he indulged in these reflections, and
putting his fingers with an absent air on Hugh’s throat, and
particularly under his left ear, as if he were studying the
anatomical development of that part of his frame, shook his head in
a despondent manner and actually shed tears.

‘I!’ repeated Dennis, gazing fondly on his image. ‘I wish I had
the talent. That was carved by a friend of mine, as is now no
more. The very day afore he died, he cut that with his pocket-
knife from memory! “I’ll die game,” says my friend, “and my last
moments shall be dewoted to making Dennis’s picter.” That’s it.’

‘That was a queer fancy, wasn’t it?’ said Mr Tappertit.

‘It was a queer fancy,’ rejoined the other, breathing on his
fictitious nose, and polishing it with the cuff of his coat, ‘but
he was a queer subject altogether—a kind of gipsy—one of the
finest, stand-up men, you ever see. Ah! He told me some things
that would startle you a bit, did that friend of mine, on the
morning when he died.’

‘You were with him at the time, were you?’ said Mr Tappertit.

‘Yes,’ he answered with a curious look, ‘I was there. Oh! yes
certainly, I was there. He wouldn’t have gone off half as
comfortable without me. I had been with three or four of his
family under the same circumstances. They were all fine fellows.’

‘They must have been fond of you,’ remarked Mr Tappertit, looking
at him sideways.

‘I don’t know that they was exactly fond of me,’ said Dennis, with
a little hesitation, ‘but they all had me near ’em when they
departed. I come in for their wardrobes too. This very handkecher
that you see round my neck, belonged to him that I’ve been speaking
of—him as did that likeness.’

Mr Tappertit glanced at the article referred to, and appeared to
think that the deceased’s ideas of dress were of a peculiar and by
no means an expensive kind. He made no remark upon the point,
however, and suffered his mysterious companion to proceed without
interruption.

‘These smalls,’ said Dennis, rubbing his legs; ‘these very smalls—
they belonged to a friend of mine that’s left off sich incumbrances
for ever: this coat too—I’ve often walked behind this coat, in the
street, and wondered whether it would ever come to me: this pair of
shoes have danced a hornpipe for another man, afore my eyes, full
half-a-dozen times at least: and as to my hat,’ he said, taking it
off, and whirling it round upon his fist—‘Lord! I’ve seen this hat
go up Holborn on the box of a hackney-coach—ah, many and many a
day!’

‘You don’t mean to say their old wearers are all dead, I hope?’
said Mr Tappertit, falling a little distance from him as he spoke.

‘Every one of ’em,’ replied Dennis. ‘Every man Jack!’

There was something so very ghastly in this circumstance, and it
appeared to account, in such a very strange and dismal manner, for
his faded dress—which, in this new aspect, seemed discoloured by
the earth from graves—that Mr Tappertit abruptly found he was
going another way, and, stopping short, bade him good night with
the utmost heartiness. As they happened to be near the Old Bailey,
and Mr Dennis knew there were turnkeys in the lodge with whom he
could pass the night, and discuss professional subjects of common
interest among them before a rousing fire, and over a social glass,
he separated from his companions without any great regret, and
warmly shaking hands with Hugh, and making an early appointment for
their meeting at The Boot, left them to pursue their road.

‘That’s a strange sort of man,’ said Mr Tappertit, watching the
hackney-coachman’s hat as it went bobbing down the street. ‘I
don’t know what to make of him. Why can’t he have his smalls made
to order, or wear live clothes at any rate?’

‘He’s a lucky man, captain,’ cried Hugh. ‘I should like to have
such friends as his.’

‘I hope he don’t get ’em to make their wills, and then knock ’em on
the head,’ said Mr Tappertit, musing. ‘But come. The United B.’s
expect me. On!—What’s the matter?’

‘I quite forgot,’ said Hugh, who had started at the striking of a
neighbouring clock. ‘I have somebody to see to-night—I must turn
back directly. The drinking and singing put it out of my head.
It’s well I remembered it!’

Mr Tappertit looked at him as though he were about to give
utterance to some very majestic sentiments in reference to this act
of desertion, but as it was clear, from Hugh’s hasty manner, that
the engagement was one of a pressing nature, he graciously forbore,
and gave him his permission to depart immediately, which Hugh
acknowledged with a roar of laughter.

‘England in blood first!’ cried his desperate leader. Whereat Hugh
cheered and laughed, and ran off like a greyhound.

‘That man will prove a credit to my corps,’ said Simon, turning
thoughtfully upon his heel. ‘And let me see. In an altered state
of society—which must ensue if we break out and are victorious—
when the locksmith’s child is mine, Miggs must be got rid of
somehow, or she’ll poison the tea-kettle one evening when I’m out.
He might marry Miggs, if he was drunk enough. It shall be done.
I’ll make a note of it.’